


Mad Love

by vondrostes



Category: Lacrosse RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Consensual Somnophilia, Exhibitionism, Getting Back Together, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: They hadn’t talked about what happened after everything went to shit. Harry didn’t want to talk about it. Xander didn’t want to push him. And what could he have even said? Sorry? I wasn’t thinking? None of it seemed heavy enough; a band-aid over a bullet hole.They’d both let the wound fester instead, let it rot.





	Mad Love

**Author's Note:**

> This references the whole snapchat debacle though nothing is discussed in detail. 
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Xander was bad at adapting.

It had been a year—more than a year, now—and still he woke up with a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach, a reminder of things he shouldn’t have lost in the first place. Not that he could blame Harry for leaving.

Tuesdays were, as a rule, the worst part of Xander’s week. Mondays were always off to a slow start as they got back into the swing of things at work again after the weekend. Tuesday was when the real slog started. But this Tuesday was different.

Xander didn’t know what to make of Jeff’s invitation to the performance when he’d received the email about it the previous week, but he wasn’t about to say no, regardless of his intentions—or Harry’s. Trying to pretend he wasn’t still hung up on Harry may have been the hardest thing Xander could possibly imagine having to go through, but it was worth it to see him again, Xander thought. It was.

“Hey,” Jeff said easily when he picked Xander and Max up that morning from the apartment they were still sharing. All plans of moving out had been cut short when Harry left; Xander had yet to pick himself back up to try again. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Xander replied, feeling a bit breathless as he slipped into the back of the car. It should have felt just like old times, but it didn’t, not really. Xander felt like he’d been thrust back in time two years and it was throwing him off-balance. Things were different now, he reminded himself. This wasn’t a second chance. Harry wasn’t in the habit of offering those. To anyone.

They hadn’t talked about what happened after everything went to shit. Harry didn’t want to talk about it. Xander didn’t want to push him. And what could he have even said? Sorry? I wasn’t thinking? None of it seemed heavy enough; a band-aid over a bullet hole.

They’d both let the wound fester instead, let it rot.

Harry had disappeared for the better part of a year. Xander had been left in the dust. He’d had to return to his old life knowing that everyone around him knew exactly what had happened and knew that he was to blame. Even if they didn’t say a word about it, they still knew, and the silence was worse sometimes.

“You okay?” Jeff finally asked after a few blocks. Max had been doing most of the heavy lifting in regard to small talk from the backseat of the car, but apparently, Xander’s silence from the passenger side hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Yeah,” Xander said quickly. “Yeah, I’m just—long day yesterday.” He’d had to do double the work in advance of knowing he’d miss most of Tuesday morning. He wouldn’t have much of a lunch break later, either, but it was fine. Xander needed to do this. He wanted to be there.

Maybe if he could see Harry again in the flesh, for real, he could finally convince himself to let go once and for all.

Xander changed his tune when they arrived, shortly after squeezing through the crowd into a small VIP section up near the stage. He waited, holding his breath subconsciously, as Harry stood with his back to Xander, conversing with someone from his band for nearly a minute before he turned around again. And when he did, it was like the entire universe shifted back into place, like seeing Harry’s face again had been the one thing Xander needed to feel at peace with himself once again.

It was just too bad the feeling wouldn’t last.

As Xander watched Harry perform, he realized that whatever lingering attachment he’d been clinging onto before had been rekindled times a million. And even though he knew deciding to come had been a mistake, he couldn’t stop himself from beaming from the sidelines as he stared up at Harry, who was in his element now more than he’d ever been in One Direction.

Xander found himself lifting up his phone despite his better judgment, snapping a few pictures of Harry onstage to remember the morning by. He’d regret taking them later, he was sure, once he was forced to go back to his old life again, once the high of seeing Harry had finally disappeared for good.

Xander was half-expecting Jeff to send him and Max on their way immediately after the performance, but instead, Jeff beckoned them to follow him toward the stage as everything was packed up and put away. Harry was lingering nearby, a water bottle pressed to his lips. Xander couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

Xander was so enraptured by the sight that he forgot to be nervous about speaking to Harry again for the first time in more than a year, and then Harry was right in front of him, smiling at him, opening his mouth to greet him.

“Been a while,” Harry said conversationally, as if they’d fallen out of touch due to professional circumstances, or something equally benign.

Xander nodded. “The hair looks good,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.

Harry’s answering smile was closer to a grimace. “Yeah, I suppose it’s all right,” he replied. “I’d rather have it long, though.”

_Me too_ , Xander wanted to say, but it felt like too much, so he swallowed the words back, nodding again in response.

“You changed your number, right?” Harry continued. He didn’t seem affected at all by being in Xander’s presence, which only made things worse. He reached toward Jeff, who handed him his phone. Harry in turn passed the device to Xander, who glanced between it and Harry himself uncertainly. “You should still be in the address book,” Harry prompted, and finally Xander realized that Harry was asking for his new phone number. Why? “We should hang out again sometime,” Harry continued as if he’d read Xander’s mind, and it took all of Xander’s willpower not to drop Harry’s phone right there onto the pavement in surprise.

“Yeah,” Xander said stiffly as he stared down at the screen, willing his thumbs to move so he could plug the new number in and give Harry’s phone back as quickly as possible. “That’d be cool.” Xander glanced up again, meeting Harry’s earnest stare with a skeptical look of his own. “Where are you staying while you’re here?” he wondered.

“Oh.” Harry looked surprised by the question. “Remember that place in Tribeca?”

Xander nodded. They’d looked at one of the units together in 2015. It had been one of their stronger picks, but Harry had been waiting for certain things to shake out before going ahead with the buy.

“I bought a flat in the building a few months ago,” Harry continued.

Xander felt sick to his stomach. That had been _their_ place.

He was so caught up in the forcible realization that Harry really had moved on without him that he barely registered Harry beckoning Jeff forward again. It wasn’t until Jeff was handing him a key and some kind of security token tucked into a laminated pocket at the end of a lanyard that Xander realized Harry was still speaking to him.

“I’ll be a bit busy in the next couple weeks with promo,” Harry was saying, “but if you ever want some alone time, you can drop by and hang out there whenever.”

Xander squinted, examining Harry’s wide-eyed expression for signs of some ulterior motive. Why would Harry give him a key to his apartment? Maybe he was just being nice, Xander rationalized. Maybe the fame had made him completely lose his grip on reality and now he thought offering his ex a free sublet in the apartment they’d been planning to purchase together was an acceptable gesture of friendship.

Or maybe it was pity that had compelled him to extend the invitation. Harry knew that Xander had always resented being so reliant on his family—especially his younger brother—for everything, so maybe this was a pointed ‘fuck you’; offering Xander a place to stay since he was incapable of getting a place on his own.

Xander only entertained that possibility for a millisecond. Harry could be petty, sure, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve got to get going,” Harry said next, still totally oblivious to the war of emotion taking place in Xander’s head as he stared down at the visitor’s badge Jeff had given him. “But we’ll catch up later, right?”

Xander lifted his head to nod in affirmation—even though he didn’t think for a second that they would ever really get the chance. “Yeah,” he replied. “Of course. It was nice to see you again.”

Harry’s smile almost looked relieved. “Yeah, you too.”

There was no farewell embrace, but Xander told himself that was probably for the best. It would just make it even harder to move on in the end. He was already struggling enough as it was.

Once Harry was gone, Jeff ushered Xander and Max back to the car so he could drop them back at their apartment. Max got out first after Jeff pulled up to the curb; Xander made to follow, but a hand on his upper arm stopped him from exiting behind his brother. Xander was met with the sight of Jeff’s searching expression when he glanced over to see what the problem was.

“You should come to LA for the show at the Troubadour,” Jeff offered, catching Xander off guard completely.

Later, he would tell himself that shock was the reason he accepted, but deep down Xander knew that wasn’t true in the slightest.

Jeff promised to make arrangements for Xander’s flights and transportation. Xander tried not to read too much into the gesture, but it was hard not to after so many months of staunch silence from Harry with nary a sign that things would ever change. Xander couldn’t fathom why Harry was suddenly reaching out again, but he knew that it was a mistake to extend his own hand in return. He’d only end up burned again after all was said and done.

Xander managed to resist the urge to visit Harry’s apartment for the first few days after the Today Show performance. He knew it was a bad idea, that he was already letting himself get in too deep, that accepting Harry’s invitation to use the apartment they’d planned to buy together as a couple was one of the worst things he could possibly do in the pursuit of moving on.

His resolution shattered on Friday evening after work when he made it home well after Max only to find that Max’s friends were also occupying the apartment for the night. Xander lingered only just long enough to change out of his work clothes before zipping out again without exchanging a single word with his brother, who still thought the whole situation with Harry was overblown and that Xander was insane for getting involved to begin with.

Xander told himself as he took a cab to Tribeca that he was only doing this so he could get a good night’s sleep, but he wasn’t sure he was doing a good job of convincing even himself that that was true as he waited out the drive. He was curious, too, undeniably so. He was anticipating getting a peek behind the curtain again at Harry’s private self. He was slightly afraid of what he might find.

Xander entered the lobby cautiously after being dropped off in front of the familiar red brick building that dominated the whole block. The doorman barely batted an eye, but the security inside looked menacing enough that Xander was tempted to turn tail and run without even trying to get in. The less rational part of Xander’s mind wondered if this was all an elaborate set-up designed to get him arrested for trying to break into an A-lister’s apartment.

He handed over the security token at the checkpoint and counted the frantic beats of his own heart as it was scanned while the other guard logged Xander’s details into the computer. The first guard handed the token back and nodded for Xander to go ahead.

Xander was in a daze as he walked over to the elevator. He could barely believe he’d actually gotten in, even though logically, there hadn’t been much of a reason to think the security pass Jeff had given him wouldn’t work.

Xander spent the ride up to Harry’s floor wondering if there was a chance that he might run into one of the building’s other famous residents. He didn’t, but that was probably for the best. It wouldn’t look great if Xander got thrown out for trying to get Ryan Reynold’s autograph.

Xander remembered the place well enough from the afternoon he and Harry had spent with Harry’s realtor shopping around in various places throughout Lower Manhattan. Even so, Xander was still struck once again by the sheer size of the apartment when he walked in and flipped on the lights, flashing back to that first time with Harry as he stepped into the sprawling great room.

It was surprisingly barren, Xander realized as he strolled through the apartment to reacquaint himself with the space. There were various pieces of furniture occupying most of the rooms, but they were all items Xander remembered from the tour he’d taken with Harry. They must have come with the house, he surmised, but Harry wasn’t one to pass up the chance to leave his mark on a living space.

The only room that had a truly lived-in feel was the master bedroom, which clearly showed signs of having been occupied recently despite the immaculate cleanliness. Xander quickly glanced inside the closet and bathroom, taking stock of the items that Harry had chosen to leave behind before exiting the master bedroom in search of another available bed he could use to spend the night.

There wasn’t one, as it turned out. Which meant that if Xander truly wanted to stay the night, he would either have to sleep in the same bed Harry used or on the couch. And as appealing as the latter option was in theory, the couch itself was a blocky piece of minimalist décor, clearly not intended to be used in the pursuit of any sort of material comfort.

After a bit more wandering, Xander found himself at the entrance to the indoor pool, a feature that had seemed utterly ridiculous at the time when he and Harry had been looking at the place, but now felt unbearably tempting as he looked in at the narrow stretch of clear blue water. Swimming in Harry’s pool felt a little more presumptuous than using a spare bed, though—but then again, Harry hadn’t provided a spare bed. He’d provided _his_ bed. So maybe the boundaries had already been blurred beyond the point of no return.

Xander ended up spending a bit of time in the home gym jogging on Harry’s treadmill before finally setting out in search of towels. The consequence of Harry’s bare-bones home décor was that everything he owned seemed to be located inside the master bedroom, so Xander started with the closet, only to emerge empty-handed.

Xander weighed his options. Was it worth scouring nearly three-thousand square feet of real estate just to avoid texting Harry? Eventually, he opted for the more mature decision and sat down on the foot of Harry’s bed with a sigh as he pulled out his phone to send the dreaded message.

_At your place. Towels?_

It wasn’t terribly late in LA, but Xander wasn’t sure if Harry had made it back there yet or if he was still in the UK doing promo there.

Harry’s answer came quicker than he expected. _I thought you’d never come over. ;) Bottom drawer in the bedroom._

Xander got up and wandered over to the bureau against the center wall and knelt down to tug on both of the bottom-most drawers, not sure which Harry meant. Neither opened. Xander frowned and pulled out his phone again.

_They’re both locked._

_Oops. Meant the big one above those._

Xander pulled open the large drawer that was second from the bottom to find an assortment of fluffy towels in white, lavender, and baby pink. He chose the purple and carefully extracted it from the drawer without disturbing the rest of the arrangement.

Xander could have just left it at that, but he couldn’t help but make one last quip as he wandered out of the bedroom. _Keeping secrets?_

The phone buzzed in his hand a few seconds later, just as Xander was pulling open the door to the indoor pool.

_Do sex toys and lube count as secrets now?_

Xander skidded to a halt and nearly dropped both his phone and the towel in his other hand as he stared down at the text Harry had sent. His thumb hovered over the reply button, but his phone vibrated again with another incoming text before he could come up with an adequate response.

_See you at the Troubadour._

Xander guessed that that was Harry’s way of ending the conversation before it could lead to anything more dangerous—like flirting, though Harry had already strayed perilously close over the course of just those few texts. Secretly, Xander was grateful that Harry had ended it himself; he’d been terrified at the prospect of being responsible for steering the conversation into safer waters.

Xander spent about an hour doing laps in Harry’s pool in the futile pursuit of relaxation before finally climbing out and heading into the adjacent spa room to shower. He was grateful that the bathrooms seemed to be well-stocked with hygiene supplies even if the spare bedrooms had little to offer. Xander didn’t want to even entertain the prospect of having to use Harry’s actual shower.

Still, Xander found himself thinking about Harry almost as soon as he stepped under the warm spray. He closed his eyes as the water cascaded over him, feeling like he could almost imagine that Harry was standing there with him. His mind wandered to memories of showers they’d spent together before, and Xander felt himself getting hard as he stood there unmoving, thinking of the way Harry’s hair had looked plastered down his back under the water.

He fisted his cock almost angrily, bitterly, coming against the smooth white wall with a grunt before experiencing an immediate surge of guilt. What the fuck was wrong with him?

There were sleeping pills in Harry’s medicine cabinet, as Xander had expected. He knew Harry tended to keep a stash sequestered in every corner of the world, just in case, because jet lag was an unavoidable reality in Harry’s life.

Xander popped one of the pills inside the half-empty bottle and trudged back into Harry’s room to get ready to sleep. He pulled on his boxers before getting into bed, leaving the rest of his clothes in a heap on the floor. He’d pick them up tomorrow when he went home.

Xander dimmed the lights and buried his nose in one of the pillows, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes. There was nothing there but the faintest scent of fabric softener. He wondered if he’d taken Harry up on his offer earlier whether he would have still been able to smell Harry himself on the sheets.

It was a thought Xander knew he shouldn’t have even allowed to cross his mind to begin with. Being this close to Harry…it was bad for him.

When Xander flew to Los Angeles almost a week later on Harry’s dime, Glenne was the one to pick him up at the airport. Xander approached her car warily, remembering the last encounter they’d had when she’d seemed ready to murder Xander on Harry’s behalf herself if he didn’t agree to keep his distance. But Xander had kept his end of the bargain. Harry hadn’t.

Xander opened the door with a carefully neutral expression and let himself in as Glenne stared straight ahead. When she finally turned to look at him, he was taken aback by the genuine smile on her face.

“We’ll have to head straight to the venue,” she said animatedly, chattering away as they drove without even stopping to take another breath, “and we’ll be in line with everyone else at first, but Jeff will come get us afterwards so we can go backstage.”

Xander just stared at her in stunned silence, unable to fully comprehend why she was being so nice to him. She’d _hated_ him the last time they spoke.

Xander didn’t bring up the weirdness, not wanting to call attention to the fact that circumstances had clearly changed without his awareness of their doing so. He still wasn’t sure to think about any of this, but waiting in line with Glenne outside the Troubadour was an unpleasant reminder of the way things had been once upon a time, when Xander had been given nothing but backstage treatment at Harry’s shows.

He couldn’t help but wonder why Harry was bothering with this whole charade after all. To keep the peace? To keep him quiet? Xander had willingly signed an NDA when they’d split. Harry had to know that he’d never go to the tabloids to gossip about him.

The show itself was lovely, but it felt bittersweet to Xander, who knew that if this continued, if he kept spending time with Harry like this, he was never going to be able to get over him. If a chance of that even still existed. And be that as it may, Xander was still tempted to remain in Harry’s shadow for however long he was permitted to do so just to have an ounce of what he used to have when he and Harry were together.

By the time Jeff came around after the show to bring him and Glenne backstage, Xander had made up his mind about telling Harry that it would be better if they weren’t friends anymore.

That plan went out the window the second Xander stepped into the green room and saw Harry again, sweaty and smiling in a pair of glittery gold trousers, glowing like Xander had never seen him before.

Harry reached toward him, and Xander allowed himself to be pulled into a tight—slightly damp—embrace. He closed his eyes as his arms looped around Harry’s waist, returning the hug as all thoughts of telling Harry to stay away simply vanished from his mind just like that.

When Harry finally broke the hug, his lips dragged across Xander’s jaw in a way that felt almost purposeful. There was nothing but innocence in his expression when they parted, and Xander wasn’t about to accuse Harry of trying to start something while Glenne and Jeff were still standing right there watching them, so he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to engage in small talk with Harry and his band as best he could.

Jeff was the one to take Xander back to LAX after the show. He was barely making his red-eye flight as it was, but Xander couldn’t help but stare wistfully back at the lights of the Troubadour as they drove away, wishing he could have stayed just long enough to attend the afterparty with the others.

Xander couldn’t stop himself from obsessing about Harry’s intentions on the flight back to NYC. But down that road lay nothing but frustration, so he turned his thoughts to imagining what Harry was doing at that moment instead. Was he still out drinking with his friends? Had he gone to bed alone? What if he _hadn’t_?

Xander had fully intended on returning to the apartment he shared with Max when he landed at LaGuardia early in the morning, but when he got into the cab, that wasn’t the address that he ended up giving the driver.

Xander arrived outside Harry’s apartment in Tribeca around dawn, and once inside, he flopped down onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts still racing. He didn’t get much sleep after that.

Xander didn’t hear from Harry for more than a week after the Troubadour show, long enough for his resolve to finally break. He listened to Harry’s album in full while shut up in Harry’s own bedroom, while the rays of afternoon sun streaming through the window slowly faded into nothingness over the course of the album runtime. He couldn’t help but wonder which songs, if any, had been written about him. Perhaps Xander hadn’t been important enough to warrant a song on Harry’s debut album. Or maybe he’d hurt Harry too much. Maybe the wounds had been too fresh to write about.

Xander continued to hang around Harry’s apartment with increasing frequency, telling himself the solitude was good for decompressing after work. Max didn’t question his absence, and Xander didn’t feel the need to clue him in on the truth. He felt pathetic enough about it already; he didn’t need to add Max’s pitying expression to the heap of self-loathing he was already mired in.

He’d fallen into a routine of sorts by the time he got an unexpected text in the middle of the day while still at work. It was from Harry: a multimedia message. Xander had received it in the middle of a meeting, but he’d waited until he’d gotten back to his office to open it, and thank god—as soon as he opened the message a loud moan emanated from his phone’s speakers, and Xander nearly dropped the device entirely in his surprise.

After he’d taken a moment to compose himself, Xander un-paused the video and tried again.

It was hard to tell what was happening at first. There wasn’t much to see, just a familiarly tattooed hand and wrist against pale skin and white sheets. Then the hand pulled back and Xander could see pink skin stretched around pearlescent white silicone and his brain shorted out for a few seconds.

When Xander regained the ability to see again, the video was still playing, and Harry was still fucking himself with a dildo in the same bed that Xander had been sleeping in for the better part of two weeks.

Xander stared down at his phone, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his slacks as his dick processed what he was looking at faster than his brain did. Why the fuck would Harry send him something like this?

There was no follow-up message attached. Xander knew the smart thing to do would have been to text or call Harry back and demand an explanation, but he couldn’t make his fingers work to go through with either plan. He didn’t know what he would even say, anyway.

Xander was still in a state of shock a few hours later when he rushed out of the office as soon as he was able to extricate himself from work. He took a cab straight to Harry’s apartment, barely aware of what he was even doing and not sure that Harry would even be there when he arrived. The video could have been months old for all he knew.

Xander turned the key with shaking hands, opening the door slowly and quietly, like he was afraid of spooking Harry if he was there. He tip-toed into the apartment and toward the master bedroom, where the door was now shut. Xander stopped short. He was absolutely certain he’d left it open the last time he was there, and the cleaning service only showed up on Saturdays. Harry was here. He was.

Xander still opened the door to Harry’s bedroom with a tentative hand, still not convinced that he wouldn’t walk into an empty room and find himself crushed by the disappointment.

But Harry was there after all, just a small lump under the duvet, distinguishable only by the tufts of brown hair peeking out against the pillow and the gentle rise and fall of the blankets as he breathed.

He was asleep, Xander realized as he slowly approached the bed. He stopped, deliberating over whether he should wake Harry up or wait out in the great room for him to get up on his own, and that’s when he spotted the dildo from Harry’s video poking out from under the sheets.

Xander’s mouth went abruptly dry. As if by its own volition, his hand reached toward Harry’s shoulder, still shrouded in the fluffy, white duvet, but just as soon as he made contact, Harry shrugged him off, rolling more onto his stomach.

Xander took a step back, intending to leave Harry to his own devices until he woke, but then Harry shifted again, this time tugging the duvet up toward his head with purpose, slowly revealing his feet, legs, until he was completely bare below the waist to Xander’s gaze.

His ass, which was now completely exposed, was still shiny and slick between his cheeks from lube. The dildo lying next to him was in a similar state, and Xander had to wonder how long Harry had been lying in this bed getting himself off before Xander arrived.

He continued to stare, unmoving, until Harry gave a little grunt of displeasure and bucked his hips. An invitation.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this, not by a long shot, but this _was_ a first time. Xander had always been a bit awed by Harry’s trust in him when they did things like this, the way he gave up control like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Harry clearly wasn’t asleep anymore, not entirely at least, but the point of this was for both of them to pretend that he was. Xander felt bowled over by everything that was behind the gesture. This wasn’t a second chance. It was forgiveness.

Xander moved closer to the bed before kneeling down in front of Harry. He pressed his middle finger between Harry’s legs, testing to see how wet he was, how open he was. Satisfied with the results, Xander pressed his ring finger alongside, this time pressing into the tight clutch of Harry’s body, pulling a quiet little grunt from him, muffled by the duvet wrapped around his head and shoulders like a shroud.

Xander didn’t say a word as he leisurely fingered Harry, too afraid of disturbing the scene Harry had set. When Harry finally spread his legs a minute or so later, Xander took it for the suggestion it was and moved back a bit to take off his own clothes.

He unbuckled his belt loudly, letting Harry know what he was doing so he could put a stop to things if he decided they were moving too fast. Harry didn’t move.

Once he was naked, Xander took a step toward the bed again, and then stopped.

The sight of the condoms sitting on the nightstand hit Xander like a truck. On one hand, it was confirmation that this was what Harry wanted after all, but on the other, it was just a reminder of the extended separation that had led them to this point. Xander didn’t know who Harry had slept with in the interim. Harry didn’t know that Xander had been too fucking hung up on him to even try to get it up for anyone else.

Xander put the condom on with trembling fingers, wishing that it didn’t feel like a badge of shame. He wanted to savor what Harry was giving him, but it was tinged with regret now, just like everything else.

The guilt soon dissipated again as Xander climbed onto the bed over Harry. He coaxed Harry’s legs closed, straddling Harry’s thighs with his own before positioning himself along the slick split of Harry’s ass and carefully pushing in. Xander could feel Harry relaxing himself to let Xander’s cock sink in smoothly, but otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle.

Xander fucked into him slow and deep, wanting to drag it out for as long as possible. He couldn’t see Harry under the duvet, so he closed his eyes, conjuring a vision of Harry’s face the way it had looked up on stage at the Troubadour, when he’d been all teary-eyed and flushed, the same way he looked during really good sex.

Xander tightened his fingers on Harry’s narrow hips when he felt an orgasm pulling his muscles taut in preparation for release. Harry tightened his ass in response to the pressure, clenching hard around where Xander’s cock was still splitting him open.

Xander came with a loud, panting gasp that felt like it echoed in the silent space between them. Harry stayed quiet as ever, unmoving even after Xander pulled out. It wasn’t until Xander had shed the used condom and returned to sit next to Harry’s exposed thighs again that Harry gave a restless shift of his hips, still seeking something he hadn’t gotten when Xander had been fucking him.

Xander could see the redness of Harry’s engorged cock just barely visible as he moved against the sheets and could guess what he wanted. But instead of giving Harry his fingers again like he had before, Xander reached for the dildo that Harry had left discarded on the bed next to him and slicked it up instead, not giving Harry any warning at all before he slid it back inside. He finally yanked a reaction out of Harry in the form of a muffled yelp, but it quickly morphed into a moan as Xander pushed the dildo in right to its base.

“That good, baby?” Xander asked, finally breaking the heavy silence for the first time since he’d entered the room.

Harry moaned out something resembling a yes before drowning out his whimpering cries against the pillow as Xander fucked him mercilessly with the same dildo he’d used in the video he’d sent.

Xander knew Harry could get off just from this, that he preferred it, and he was determined to make it happen. He nudged Harry’s legs open a little wider and ground the dildo in hard on every in-stroke, angling it toward Harry’s prostate as much as possible. It wasn’t longer before Harry’s body started to quake with the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm, and Xander just fucked him even rougher in response, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from Harry’s body as he shuddered underneath the snow-white duvet still covering his upper body.

There was a pool of come on the sheets under Harry’s hips when Xander finally pulled the dildo out of him, and it was then that Harry finally discarded the blankets covering him so he could roll over onto his back to face Xander. His eyes were bleary and red-rimmed from a combination of sleepiness and sex and Xander wasn’t sure he’d ever looked more beautiful.

Xander said as much to him, drawing out a bashful smile. “You’re embarrassing,” Harry said quietly, even though Xander knew he loved the praise, got off on it sometimes, too.

Xander finally leaned down then to kiss him like he’d been wanting to for weeks. Months, if he was being completely honest, but it had never seemed like even a remote possibility until that morning on Rockefeller Plaza when the planets had all finally aligned. The kiss Xander placed against Harry’s plush mouth was proof of that.

“Guess we did things backwards,” Harry commented after Xander pulled away again.

Xander kissed him again in answer and then laid down next to Harry, careful to avoid the wet spot on the other side of him as he got into the bed properly. “I missed you,” Xander said, pressing their faces close together again, their noses nearly touching.

“I missed you, too,” Harry told him. There was a bit of moisture clinging to his lashes. He blinked it away, revealing a pair of luminous green eyes that Xander had once seared into his own brain on purpose, thinking he’d never see them again. Not like this.

“Why?” Xander questioned ambiguously. He knew Harry would understand what he was trying to ask.

Harry nudged a bit closer to Xander, trying to bridge a gap that wasn’t there. Physically, anyway. “Georgia called me a couple months ago,” he said slowly.

The mention of his sister’s name coming out of Harry’s mouth had Xander tensing up automatically. He’d told his family not to contact Harry again after they’d broken up, making it clear that it wasn’t something to take lightly. He wanted to call Georgia up right then and there and demand to know why she hadn’t listened, and then he wanted to thank her, because for whatever reason she’d done it, it had led to this, somehow.

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Xander assured Harry, who laughed a little before finally drawing away toward his own side of the pillow.

“I know,” he said. “She wanted to tell me what really happened. That it was all a misunderstanding. She yelled at me a bit, actually. Said that I should have just asked you to explain before I left.”

“Why didn’t you?” Xander said, forcing the words past the lump that had rapidly formed in his throat as Harry told him what his sister had done.

“I was scared,” Harry replied simply. “I was upset. It was easier to just run away from it back then.”

Harry didn’t look scared or upset anymore, but Xander still stared at him with an anguished expression, filled with nothing but regret now that the afterglow had faded away. “I still shouldn’t have done it,” he said.

“No,” Harry said in a slow voice, “you shouldn’t have. But I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me on purpose. And I’m sorry for not giving you the chance to fix it.” He reached out a hand, softly tracing a path up Xander’s side, from hip to armpit, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I hurt you, too,” Harry finished.

“I’m sorry,” Xander told him. It was the first time he’d said those words to Harry out loud, even though they’d been all he could think about over the past year. It was the first time he’d had the chance.

“I’m sorry, too.”

They fell asleep like that, facing each other in Harry’s bed—now their bed—while the sun slowly set outside the west-facing window, casting gentle shadows across their slumbering forms. And for the first time in a long time, Xander felt like he’d come home.


End file.
